


Cozy

by TheBakerStWriter



Series: June's Inksolation Of 2020 [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Captain John H. Watson, Cold Weather, Cozy, Fluff, M/M, Other, Platonic Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock subconsciously wants more, forces Sherlock to eat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBakerStWriter/pseuds/TheBakerStWriter
Summary: After a very busy and hectic week of solving a difficult case. Sherlock and John almost froze to death in this frosting weather. But in the end, they enjoyed a night at baker street, 221b, and eventually bed share. (Sherlock subconsciously wants more).This is the third fic in the June Inksolation of 2020 prompts list! With 'Cozy' being the theme.I want apologize for not posting this on it's respective day, but I didn't have time. And so shortly I will post the fourth fic.Short Excerpt:“Listen here Mr cheekbones,” John growled at the disapproving looking detective, his feet planted to the ground, his right hand previously slammed on the table, the other pointing at Sherlock. “I will kill you if-”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: June's Inksolation Of 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772257
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Cozy

**Author's Note:**

> First and Foremost, Apologies for not posting this yesterday, I didn't have time.
> 
> Secondly, This is unbeta'ed and so critic is welcome!
> 
> Third and Lastly, Enjoy!

The weather was biting both Sherlock and John as the latter opened the door to 221b. The wind shoved them forwards, causing Sherlock to bash into John. Both of them hit the floor with a loud thud and a string of whispered hissed curses were executed from John.

“At least we’re home and not stuck underground.” Sherlock hissed as he stood up, Pain shot through his back and legs from the long distances they have covered today. Shivering, he extended his hand for John.

“Hah, yeah, I suppose.” John took the offered hand as he remembered that time when Sherlock had been tricked and they ended up getting trapped in this subway. For 5 hours. Deprived of his laptop and newspaper, John was forced to listen to Sherlock’s rambling. However, they have at least set some lines down, and John got to learn more about Sherlock’s past. And saw glimpses of what made him the man he is today.

They had just finished a rather interesting case which occupied them this entire week, it kept them on their toes with two wild chases, or three if chasing the duck counts. And yet it was only an eight and a half on Sherlock's scale. However, John was quite delighted that it was over. The cold has started getting the better of him, his fingers started to ache in the January winter wind as he clenched and unclenched them, trying to keep their feelings in their tips. At certain moments he caught Sherlock shivering but didn’t dare ask him to do something about it. He was certain they were going to catch a cold.

As they ascended the 17 stairs, their legs stiff from the frosty weather, Mrs. Hudson called out to them.

“Boys!”

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson?” John said with his gentle voice used to address women, as he turned to face her, it was like melting Honey which filled Sherlock’s ears. Honey inside my ear is not pleasant! Thought Sherlock as he hastily shook his head. What the hell is wrong with you?!

“I have made some spaghetti bolognese for the both of you which needs some heating,” Mrs. Hudson emerged from her flat, “And I have turned on the electric heater for you, the weather is bloody awful today!”

“Ah, yes, thank you, Mrs Hudson! Spaghetti sounds lovely” John beamed to her as he nudged Sherlock. “The weather did take a turn since last week.”

“Thank you hudders,” Sherlock spoke with a hint of appreciation, approval, and what could be, just maybe, joy.

**********

“Listen here Mr cheekbones,” John growled at the disapproving looking detective, his feet planted to the ground, his right hand previously slammed on the table, the other pointing at Sherlock. “I will kill you if-”

“You’re a doctor!” shot Sherlock back, his hands folded and sitting upright on his chair, making himself prey to John’s gaze.

“I had bad days!” Shouted John, he’s arms flying upwards before sitting down dangerously slow.

“Eat the bloody spaghetti, Sherlock,” John’s voice was low and deep, his head tilted slightly causing him to look upwards to meet Sherlock’s gaze. His right forearm pressed against the wooden table causing him to lean forwards ever so slightly. A menacing look lingered on him.

Sherlock knew better than to argue with Captain John H. Watson. Last time he did that, the outcome was not pleasant. With a huff, he grabbed his fork and stabbed the spaghetti, earning a satisfied look from John.

In truth, Sherlock was starving. And he only wanted to see John in his captain mode. Earlier today he arrived late, catching John giving an army salute and being addressed as ‘Captain Watson’ by a younger officer, and it had been a while since he saw him in this mode and was eager to see it again. One of his instincts told him John might be the reason behind this small argument since Sherlock hadn’t eaten more than a bowl of soup and half a sandwich this entire week, and with these wild chases, he surely must feel hungry.

**********

John handed Sherlock a cup of tea and sat on his usual armchair with a blanket. It was still cold, but the heater had heated their flat very well. The fireplace spread its warmth, and it’s crackling sound filled the flat. The howling wind could be heard below the low Lo-Fi music playing in the background. Mrs. Hudson was long asleep so it was completely and utterly silent. The fire provided the only source of dim light apart from the moonlight and street lamps firing at their windows.

It was one of those rare nights after a long and hectic week where Sherlock liked such an atmosphere without complaining about boredom.

John’s fingers had warmed out completely by the hot cup of tea between his hands, lost in thought while the firelight illuminated his features. While Sherlock sat, his own blanket and cup of tea providing shelter for those long and pale fingers, he admired John’s features. And absorbed them, stored them in a chamber in his mind palace. He’s experiencing mixed feelings, so confusing, yet, welcoming and warm. Especially in his chest area, it was warmth but something was missing. Something that he would kill for when he is calm and relaxed such as now. Something he doesn’t know what it is.

Time had passed, their cups were now cold and free of warmth. The Lo-Fi had ended. Putting the room in silence with only the crackling sound of the fire.

John had decided to put down his cup of tea and stood up to make his way to Sherlock. The detective seemed already dozing. So he freed the cup from the long fingers, causing him to remember the times he watched Sherlock play the violin, how those long fingers danced with the bow melodically. He shook his head from these thoughts and put his hand on the man.

“Sherlock, hey,” John whispered and got an ‘mmm’ sound from the addressed as he started to help stand him up. “Come on.”

They both made their way to Sherlock’s bedroom with the latter leaning on the former. The room was pretty cold, but the living room was also colder than earlier. As the night progressed the coldness, too, progressed. And a simple blanket or two won’t help. Especially with a very thin, Too thin, Sherlock. So John decided on a rather different sleeping arrangement this night as he placed the half-sleeping detective on the chair.

John stripped Sherlock’s bed from its clothing, and with a glance behind he found Sherlock curling himself into a tight ball and shivering which confirmed that his idea was the right thing, he lifted the mattress and pulled it to the living room, placing it between the two chairs, before the fireplace.

Once he made the bed, or the mattress, he returned to the bedroom to guide Sherlock to the little nest he made from pillows and blankets.

“Wha…?” Sherlock tried sleeping but he was too tired to finish it as he was leaning against John. “Shhhhh…” Came John’s reply as he carefully placed Sherlock onto the mattress, covering him with two blankets. Sherlock positioned himself on his side facing his chair while John stood behind him, the fireplace highlighting Sherlock's dark brown set of lock hair. He looked peaceful to John and infinitely younger.

He was about to go upstairs to his accommodation when he started debating with himself. A lack of a fireplace makes his room much colder, not speaking of his electric heater. It was the worst and extremely cheap which made it work poorly. While here he has a properly working heater, a fireplace, a very comfortable mattress, and enough space to fit himself in this nest of his. He had arranged pillows and blankets around the matters, which made it welcoming.

And so in the end, he put on another Lo-Fi playlist and laid himself down near the sleeping detective. He didn’t take permission from Sherlock to share this bed, but body warmth played a major part in not freezing homosapiens back then.

Sherlock has felt the mattress go down, as someone, of course, it’s John, took up the empty part of it. And secretly he was quite grateful for it, he doesn’t know if it’s his half sleepy mind or himself, but either way, he enjoyed it. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted more. So he scooted a bit backwards until he felt John’s elbow against his back. Hand under his head. Concluded Sherlock.

A minute passed before John decided to act out his thoughts, he turned on his side facing Sherlock's back. He then placed his right hand around the detective, his hand resting on the mattress while his forehead touched the other’s neck. His other hand under his head. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, but from the little information he gathered from the man's childhood, this should be good if not perfect.

And with no protests from Sherlock, he could finally relax, share his warmth and breath in Sherlock's scent. The Lo-Fi filled the room once again, and the dim light slept with them. And finally, Sherlock felt this missing part in his chest back, he figured that it was emptiness, now filled with John and his scent.

**********

**Author's Note:**

> I tried hard to not get ooc and tried my best at setting the scene, there a few bits here n there which needs changing, but I have no idea how to change them for the better.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos! And thank you, yes you, you loyal reader(S).
> 
> Lastly, If you want to order a Ficdish from Ficaway feel free me to contact me via email in my bio.  
> Not sure what I am talking about? Stop by my bio for full information!


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